


Old Skills, New Tricks

by Eliyes



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Banter, Gen, Gossip, Historical, Quickening Tricks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:46:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliyes/pseuds/Eliyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the 1660s, Methos and Rebecca were briefly neighbours and had a friendly chat. </p><p>(Various other HL characters mentioned.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Skills, New Tricks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ithildyn (Ithildin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithildin/gifts).



> I have seen Rebecca's abbey placed in at least three different countries and have found confirmation for none of them in the show, so I don't say where this takes place. 
> 
> This story was originally posted on Livejournal as part of the Highlander Holiday ShortCuts fanfiction exchange, December 28, 2013. It was a lot of fun and I hope to participate next year!

 

Methos considered his current employment as a huntsman for a noble to have a number of good points -- most of which he was cleaning in a stream at present, having used them to kill and butcher a deer. He laid the last knife on the cloth he'd spread on the ground, with the hunting hanger, cleaver, bodkin and various other knives, all with matching stag horn hilts. He would have to find a way to keep these when he left. He dried them with quick, sure hands.  
  
Unless he was much mistaken, another good point of his current circumstances was fast approaching -- on horseback, if he was reading the Immortal Presence correctly. The sound of hooves on fallen leaves put a smile on his face at guessing right; he had most of the blades sheathed by the time the beast and its rider were in easy sight on the other side of the stream that marked the boundary between the land held by the local lord, and that held by the abbey. The rider was dressed modestly for her station, though his sharp eyes could detect the sword hidden in the folds of her cloak.  
  
Rebecca's shout of wordless surprise widened his smile considerably, and he tucked away the last of the knives as she halted her mount across the narrow ribbon of water, close enough that he could reach out and scratch its nose if he wanted to risk wet boots.  
  
"Well," she said after a pause in which they looked each other over, taking in what changes time had and had not wrought, "it's been some time since I've seen _you_." One amber brow raised in inquiry.  
  
Methos shrugged. "There is much to see and do in the Ottoman Empire." He slung the bags holding his day's work over his shoulder by the strap. "I would have stopped by on my way here, but I wasn't sure of my welcome since you have a student."  
  
Her eyes narrowed. "Who told you I have a student?"  
  
The look he slid her was just this side of gleeful. "No one told me. I felt it for myself, standing, oh --" He jerked his chin to a bend in the stream a couple of horselengths ahead. "-- just about there."  
  
She snorted in disbelief. "We haven't been far enough in this direction to be sensed from there in at least a month, and my lordly neighbour acquired a new huntsman less than a score of days ago."  
  
He grinned. "I know."  
  
"Why a huntsman? The last time I saw you, you were an apothecary. The time before that a scholar -- _usually_ a scholar of some kind."  
  
"Oh, I'm always a scholar. Right now I'm refreshing important survival skills, learning the new techniques of the trade." He patted the hunting sword hung from his hip.  
  
They paused before the bend and contemplated it in silence for a moment, apart from the horse chuffing quietly. Methos chucked his tongue at it and reached out to pet the velvet nose when it turned towards him across this narrower section of water.  
  
At last, Rebecca spoke. "I confess I see nothing special about this piece of ground."  
  
He chuckled. "It's not the land, it's the spirit," he told her, slipping easily into a dialect of her land of origin that had not been spoken nor understood by any mortal for over a thousand years. "You know that I am interested in ways of disguising my Immortal signature, to make me seem a less juicy plum to be plucked by some fool young hothead eager to behead someone ancient, or who has killed many."  
  
"Yes, I know."  
  
"Well, I had the idea of thinning it by spreading it out. Like ink in water; the more water, the thinner the ink spreads." He set down his burden and shook out his arms. "Here, I'll demonstrate. Concentrate on the feel of my Presence; it's less noticeable now, but you can --"  
  
"I am a teacher, too, you know," she interrupted wryly.  
  
He flashed her a smile. "Do you feel me?"  
  
"Yes," she said patiently.  
  
He narrowed his eyes and, after a moment, hers flew wide.  
  
"It weakened!"  
  
He shook his head. "No, it _spread_. Not far enough to touch your abbey -- I don't want to alarm your student when you aren't home -- but I can sense a much larger area this way. I think this might be something Emrys mastered, to protect his city. It does make it possible to sense me from further away, unfortunately."  
  
Looking thoughtful, Rebecca mused, "Most Immortals passing this way already know I'm here. This would be useful to me, to protect my holding and students."  
  
"Which is why I brought it up." His mouth twisted up into a crooked smile. "It's not particularly useful to me. And -- it's possible this ability comes with age, but I don't know." He picked up the deer again and they continued their slow procession down the two sides of the stream. Switching back to a more modern tongue, he asked, "So, your student? How new is this one?"  
  
Rebecca sighed. "New. Barely two years. It's slow going so far. She had no training." She touched the hidden pommel of her sword, and Methos nodding his understanding. "I think it will be another five or six years before she'll be ready for our kind of company, though she may yet surprise me."  
  
He grimaced. "I won't be around, then."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
He sighed. "My lord is looking to build a stable household, which to him means such skilled employees as myself settled down to marriage and children."  
  
"I have heard him say as much, yes," she said with a smile.  
  
With exasperated asperity, Methos informed her, "Yes, well, in order to stop him sending eligible young women my way, I was forced to sadly confess that my previous marriage was annulled due to lack of offspring, and that my former wife has since proven fertile." He shook his head while she laughed, grousing, "He's not even being subtle about his inquiries to find my replacement."  
  
"Poor soul," she said with cheerfully false sympathy. "So, where will you go next?"  
  
"Not sure. I had thought about Sweden, but their empire isn't resting easy, it seems, and I have no desire to be a soldier at present. Wherever my feet take me, perhaps." He eyed her horse thoughtfully. "Or, not _my_ feet..."  
  
"Well, if you don't wander too far, come back in a decade or so."  
  
"It's a date, Your Reverence."  
  
She smirked at him. "And when you do, I'll tell you some amusing gossip."  
  
"Oh, it's cruel to tease me like that. What gossip?"  
  
"Well, you know my nephew Connor?"  
  
"Ramírez's student? I've heard a little about him, mostly from you."  
  
"It appear one of his younger clansmen has recently joined our ranks. Amanda and I had a most amusing encounter with him." She grinned. "I'll tell you all about it -- in a decade." So saying, she wheeled her horse around and took off into her domain. Methos shouted after her, laughing, but did not follow. He'd be sure to come back again in ten years for an Amanda story that made Rebecca smile in that wicked way.

 


End file.
